I Heal a Little Bit Every Time You Say My Name
by thecurlingiron
Summary: From kindergarten through college, Jesse Swanson has always found Beca Mitchell fascinating. AU. Rated T, because why not.


**In honor of my year-a-versary on this website (which was last month, and I missed it because I'm a buttface), I have written this…this ****_thing_****. It is in no way, shape of form a good idea for me to be starting this, so of course I'm starting this. Because, logic. It's more than one part, so uh, shout if you're excited, stay tuned, and please don't kill me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Pitch Perfect, it's characters, or anything else you may or may not recognize.**

Rebeca Mitchell was most definitely a mystery. Like a combination lock with only one number given, or a grayscale jigsaw puzzle with 19,000 pieces, and the border finished. Frankly, being in the same kindergarten class with her was like handing a Rubik's Cube to an amateur, and giving them a time limit. It was nearly impossible to figure out what made her have the impact on Jesse that she did. Maybe it was the way she walked, or the slight lift in her voice when she was happy, or the way that her smile made the whole room glow. At least to Jesse, anyhow. So, yes, it was so difficult to pinpoint exactly what made little Beca Mitchell so special, but whatever it was, it was addicting as hell.

On the very first day, the sunlight was streaming brightly through the windows of the classroom which smelled faintly of lavender and Clorox. Jesse sat erect in his chair, his fingers laced together neatly, and placed strategically on the cool wooden desk in front of him. Jesse's bubby brunette teacher Mrs. Eikram was taking roll and when _she_ raised her arm halfway with wide eyes to correct that she went by Beca, and not _Ree-Bee-Kah_, Jesse noticed. He glanced over to her in interest, as she gazed back down at her desk, and played with her pencils. Her hair was parted down the middle, and was pulled into two long dark penny brown braids. She had simple daisy earrings in her ears, and she wore a dark blue smiley face t-shirt. Her cheeks were pink, as well as her minuscule mouth, her eyes were icy blue and wide as they focused on the back of Mrs. Eikram's head, and she was at least four inches shorter than everyone else in their class. Jesse watched as she balanced her head on her hand, already looking bored with everyone, and everything in the room.

Jesse was so caught up in the enigma that was Beca Mitchell that he almost missed his name being called entirely. When Mrs. Eikram asked for a Jesse Swanson for the second time, he nearly jumped out of his seat as he came out of his, what he would later refer to it as a 'Beca-zone'. "Here! I'm here." He called out clumsily, embarrassed for not paying attention, causing everyone in the class to snicker. Not Beca Mitchell though. As Jesse looked back over to her, her demeanor hadn't changed a bit. Other than the fact that she was looking directly at him, making his blood run cold as bright blue pupils met cocoa brown. Jesse quirked up one corner of his mouth in a form of awkward greeting, while Beca pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows in a "what-can-you-do" sort of a way, before looking away and playing with one of her braids. Jesse didn't look away until Mrs. Eikram clapped her hands her hands and requested that everyone come to the sharing circle.

And when Jesse got to sit next to Beca, and their knees brushed as they sat crisscross-applesauce, a flush formed on his cheeks, and it stayed there until lunchtime.

:-) :-O ;-D

Jesse wasn't staring at her. He swears he wasn't staring at her. Jesse Swanson was in no way, shape, or form staring at Beca Mitchell during recess a few days later. Not at all. He just…liked…looking at her. There. He liked looking at her. She was interesting, sue him.

He was standing in the middle of the playground, getting ready to join in the game of catch that Richard Allen and Donald Walsh were starting. He dragged his toe around in the dirt of the field, listening to Richard bark out, "No, I get to go first! I'm the oldest!" (Richard got held back in preschool for refusing to nap.) Donald had just commented on how Richard was also the shortest when he saw her walk out of the building. She was focusing on her Sketchers as she trudged through the grass towards that big tree on top of the big hill off to the right of everyone else that looked oh-so-inviting.

"Hey, Beca!" Hailey #1 had beckoned across the playground. (There were three Hailey's in their class. Hailey Peterson, Haylee Maxwell, and Hailee Johnson. There was also George Haley, but no one really counted him. They always walked together in line, and they called on one another to popcorn-read, and played with each other's hair, and they rarely talked to anyone but each other. The fact that they had reached out to little Beca Mitchell, three desks behind them, was more shocking than the fact that teachers had first names. Because, what?) The Hailey's all sat neatly in a circle off to the side of the jungle gym, their noses upturned at the barbarians that were running rampant on the grass as they all pulled Barbies from their glittery backpacks, all of which were a different variation of pink or purple. Totally not Beca's style. "Come play Barbies with us! You can be Teresa!" she insisted waving the doll around in the crisp air.

Jesse watched as Beca wrinkled her nose at the doll in Hailey #1 had in her outstretched hand. "Uhm…no thanks." She piped up as she backed away, slinging her simple gray backpack over her shoulder. Hailey #1, taken aback quickly shook it off before inviting over Tracey Marsinko, and offering her the same doll. It was in that exact moment as Beca walked away, opting to sit under that shady tree with a content smile on her face that Jesse discovered that he wanted to know Beca Mitchell. Because…well, he didn't exactly know why.

:-) :-O ;-D

He didn't talk to her until open house. It was six in the evening a few weeks later, and every student of Oakland Elementary was gripping their parent or guardian's hand tightly, and dragging them around to either meet their favorite teacher, or to look at the tree picture that they drew last week, because it was so obviously the best tree in the room. Jesse was beaming at his dad's side as Mrs. Eikram raved about his class participation, and his mom ruffled his hair slightly as Mrs. Eikram threw around the terms "outstanding" and "intelligent". Jesse excused himself to get a drink of water as Mrs. Eikram called his parents over to look at his worksheets.

Jesse was always a very observant person, his eyes constantly latching onto little details, and tracing them endlessly, an as he traveled down the hallway, he made sure to pay close attention to the intricate colors and patterns of the pictures along the wall of first grade hallway. It wasn't until he had rounded the corner of the main hall that he saw her again. She was sitting on the little wooden bench in front of the main office with her knees pulled to her chest, her chin resting between them, staring sadly at a couple further down the hallway with flushed faces and angry expressions as they fought in not-so-hushed tones. Her braids were still intact, and her once bright blue eyes were dull and watery. He saw Beca raise her hand to her eye to wipe furiously at a tear that hadn't fallen before tearing her eyes away from the couple and locking her eyes on the little swirls in the wood of the bench.

Jesse heart broke a little bit for her, and he cautiously walked forward and took a seat on the bench next to her. "Hi." He said, barely loud enough to be heard. Beca did though. She picked up her head and studied him, eyes slightly bloodshot before returning a simple "Hey," with a lazy smile. They didn't speak for a while, because they didn't need to. While being in each other's company, the silence was simply comforting, and it was just what they both needed.

The couple broke apart, the woman throwing her hands in the air furiously before turning and storming back down the hallway, her heels clacking against the linoleum floor as if it had done her a personal wrong. "Beca, let's go. We're leaving." She called out bitterly while watching the man storm out the front doors and toward the parking lot. As Beca began to slide off the bench hesitantly, Jesse felt the overwhelming urge to say something. "I—I like your braids." He called out. Beca turned enough on her heel to face him, studying him again as if to make sure that he was being sincere. "Thanks," she said softly, smiling slightly. "Beca! Let's go, now!" Her mother demanded, her face twisted into a tight grimace. Beca flinched at the woman's tone as she turned and trotted away, but as Beca and her mother disappeared through the front doors, Jesse saw her turn back slightly, and send him a weak wave with the hand that wasn't gripping her mother's. Jesse waved back, feeling enlightened, because at 6:26 P.M. on September 3rd, Jesse Swanson made Beca Mitchell smile.

:-) :-O ;-D

Jesse decided that he had a crush on her five years later.

So, the thing with Beca and Jesse is that they weren't exactly friends, but they weren't…not friends. If that makes sense? All Jesse knew was that in the four years in which they had been in the same class at Oakland Elementary, they didn't talk much. They didn't play together during recess, or sit together during lunch, but one of them would occasionally smile at each other from across the room, or make a funny face complete with an eyebrow wiggle and puffed cheeks, causing the other's heart to do this fluttery thing that no one in their class could know about. And though no one said anything, the whole class just kinda knew that there was something there. All except for Beca, of course. She had always been on the oblivious side.

Jesse had always admired Beca. He admired how she shoved a Jell-O cup down Richard Allen's pants when he yanked on one of her braids at recess (Richard Allen was always a bit of a douchebag). Along those same lines, he admired how she wore her hair in braids nearly every day, despite the fact that the Hailey's (now Hailey #1, Haylee #2, and Tracey Marsinko, due to Hailee #3 moving away last summer) constantly teased her for it. Overall, he admired the fact that Beca Mitchell was not the girl who would sit back and take your shit, thank you very much. She had a backbone, and a mind of her own, which was something so beautiful and rare that it made Jesse tingle every time that he heard her name.

But if you asked Jesse today, the thing that got him hooked on Beca Mitchell was the light in her eyes that appeared every time she was passionate about something. Jesse was one of the lucky ones, getting to witness this little spectacle firsthand. Every Thursday, at one o' clock, Mrs. Keegan's fifth grade class would go to the little music room at the end of the hall, and sit in alphabetical order as they prepared for their annual fall concert. Jesse had a clear view of Beca from his seat one row behind her, and he really admired how while the rest of the class was bleating out 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' mindlessly on those God awful recorders, Beca sat up straight and concentrated on every note that she played, and savored every sound that she could manipulate that plastic flute knockoff to make. And he admired how she carried that little recorder with her during recess, and sat under that shady tree, and would play her heart out for the entire period as if it were the only thing that she enjoyed in life.

:-) :-O ;-D

When Valentine's Day rolled around, Beca was the only thing on Jesse's mind. All February long, Mrs. Keegan had been chattering on about how Valentine's Day was the time to do something special for the people you really liked, and Jesse swore that half the class turned their stares at himself and Beca expectantly. Mrs. Keegan went on to add that the class would have a little party on the fourteenth, since it was a Friday, and that everyone could bring Valentines and candies for one another. (Again, cue the stares at Beca and Jesse.)

So, he had a plan, right? He had a plan. He was going to make Beca Mitchell the best valentine ever, and then he was going to hold her hand. This would be a major milestone in their relationship, and Beca would admit that she was head-over-heels for him, and they would grip each other's hand as they skipped off toward the swing set with the bright sunlight highlighting their every footstep, and they would live happily ever after and be high school sweethearts, and get married and have pretty babies with Beca's eyes and Jesse's smile.

Okay, yeah, maybe not, but he was at least going to hold her hand. He was also going to stop keeping his big sister company during her self-loathing Princess Diaries marathons.

That evening before Valentine's Day, Jesse swiped piles of foam, lace, construction paper, and markers from his sister's crafting stash, and snuck it back to his room before she noticed. From there, he spent hours cutting and gluing strips of material in the shape of a heart, and arranging beads to spell out Beca in the center. He taped a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup under her name (all while praying that she wasn't allergic to peanut butter, or something equally horrendous), and left the Valentine to dry overnight.

He then spent the next hour in front of his mirror practicing his delivery, because all of the work was for nothing if his presentation was flawed.

"Hey Be-Beca." He said to himself shakily. Nope. Too…nervous. Vetoed.

"Hi there Beca!" he chirped brightly into the mirror before cringing. Uh-uh. Too eager. Vetoed.

"Yo, pretty lady…" he tried, pushing back his hair and dishing out a sly smile. Absolutely not, he decided. Too…Richard Allen. Vetoed twice.

Deciding to keep it easy with a simple, "Hi Beca. Will you be my Valentine?" Jesse nodded his head satisfied, and stuck the Valentine in his bag.

"Ooooh, Mom! Jesse has a girlfriend!" his sister Wendy crooned from the doorway. Jesse whipped his head around, eyes wide, because _how long had she been there?_

"No I don't, Wendy," he barked defensively. "And get out of my room!" Jesse marched toward the door and pushed on it with all of his ten-year-old might. "That what you get for taking my—," Wendy said slyly before the door slammed in her face. As Jesse turned to zip up his bag, he could just barely hear Wendy threaten to burn his copy of Shrek if he touched her things without asking again. Eyes widened, Jesse ran off to hide the movie where he knew she would never look (in his underwear drawer).

Jesse curled up in his Spiderman sheets that night, confident and ready to set his plan into action.

But then Beca didn't come into school on Valentine's Day.

And Jesse's heart deflated a little bit.

:-) :-O ;-D

Beca was back in school on Tuesday, but she wasn't the same. Her hair was loose and wavy around her shoulders, her eyes were sad and tired, and her mouth was set in a tight line. Beca wasn't all that social in class before, but even the little "hellos," and "goodbyes," that she would offer up stopped completely. She didn't show up at their class table for lunch, and she didn't play one note during music class. At one point, Jesse caught her eye during Jesse was worried because he had never seen the spitfire that was Beca Mitchell so…broken before. Not since that fateful day on that itty-bitty bench in first grade. And the fact that there was something eating away at Beca that he couldn't fix was driving him nuts, because little Beca Mitchell had his heart. And although she had no clue, it was breaking right alongside hers.

* * *

On Beca's second day back in school, she trudged into the classroom with her head down, her mind ready to collapse under the weight of her parent's divorce. It was at seven in the evening on February 13th when her mom beckoned her into the living room to tell her that "she and Daddy wouldn't be living together anymore." A big part of Beca was devastated, because her parents didn't love each other anymore, but a little section of her was relieved. Relieved to know that she wouldn't have to stay up at night, her cheeks raw and the moonlight illuminating the tear tracks on her face, waiting for her parents to stop screaming. She would no longer have to bravely send messages of "Mommy wants you to pass the salt," or "Daddy thinks that it's his turn with the remote," or get caught in the middle of the impending fallout. Beca would never again have to sit up at night, thoughts racing, fighting that minuscule piece of her mind that tried to assure her that everything was fine, and that her parents were happy. Because it wasn't, and they weren't.

The only downside to Beca in this situation, other that the obvious, was that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't stop asking herself if there was something she could have done, or some unforeseen solution that she failed to find that could have miraculously cured everything, and launched herself and her family into the blissful world that Beca often found herself imagining, where her parents were in love, and she was happy, and Hakuna Matata for everyone. She couldn't find that. And no matter how hard she fought to tell herself otherwise, Beca knew that she was a failure because of this.

Beca blinked back that irritating tear that was threatening to fall from her dulling blue eye, therefore exposing all of her inner turmoil right along with it. Dumping her bag under her desk, and plopping into her chilly plastic chair, Beca was ready to slam her head on the desk, and forget everyone. Because screw people. People were nasty, awful little things, and they smelt like boogers, and they were loud and mean and—

Right before Beca allowed herself to give into her desires and people loathing tendencies, a crisp sweet smell tickled her nose, and the pop of color on her desk caught her eye through the tears that were blurring her vision. Beca cautiously picked up the big white daisy with the Reeses Peanut Butter Cup strapped to the stem that had been strategically placed on the center of her desk. Her brow furrowed, because she didn't remember telling anyone that she like the nutty candy so much, so how…

Beca raised her eyes to look across the room at Jesse, that one kid who could always make her smile while their teacher was droning on about something completely dull. Her lips stretched across her face, and her eyebrows raised sky high as he looked up from his book to meet her gaze. Jesse smiled brightly seeing the fact that she got his gift, before he puffed out his cheeks and crossed his eyes. Beca grinned widely and let out a little laugh as she slipped the daisy in her bag because maybe…maybe people weren't so bad after all.

* * *

One week later, Beca moved with her mother to New York.

And Jesse became completely hollow.

:-) :-O ;-D

Jesse didn't see her again until their sophomore year in high school. For the first few weeks after she left, it took all of his willpower not to think of her. Because he just—he could _not_ think of her. If he stopped to think about little Beca Mitchell, or her big blue eyes, or her strong will, or how she made that dumbass recorder look like the coolest thing in the world, there was no going back. It took him weeks after she left to stop eternally wincing every time he heard her name, and a month to stop getting that sad look behind his eyes whenever they went to music class and pulled out those recorders. And it took him all three years of middle school for him to stop thinking about her entirely.

She moved back in November, when everyone had already formed their cliques, and gathered their friends, and adapted to their assigned seats. Her hair was no longer in braids, but was instead messily thrown over her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes were lined with thick black eyeliner and gray eye shadow. She had two new studs, right above where her daisy earrings were once perched, and she had grown a few inches, but no more than a foot. When she stepped into Jesse's biology class, her bag slung carelessly over her shoulder, her eyes unfocused, and her aura screaming "I don't give a shit," Jesse did a double-take. Because even with all of the changes she went through, Jesse knew exactly who she was.

He also knew that she was easily the most beautiful girl in the room.

**Hope you like things thus far guys! If you did, or if you didn't, review please? Thanks for reading!**


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